


Daughter Of Winter And The Dragon Prince

by ShreyaAcharya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Azor Ahai, Gen, Grief, Romance, The Long Night, The Prince That Was Promised, White Walkers, lots of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:26:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5298242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShreyaAcharya/pseuds/ShreyaAcharya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some 20 odd years ago the prophecy almost came close to fulfilling. Almost..... Now another maid with winter's blood meets a prince fire made flesh. Together will they be successful in ending the long night or will history repeat itself? </p><p>Arya Stark has been No one for so long she's forgotten how she looks and nearly everyone she meets believes her to be a ghost from the past come to haunt them again. </p><p>Aegon Targaryen has always lived in the shadow of his ever so noble father. They say he inherited his looks but has he inherited his fate too? </p><p>The match between a Stark and a Targaryen is said to be doomed but can this doom bring forth a saviour that would be everyone's salvation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Across The Narrow Sea

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic. I've always liked the pairing of Arya/Aegon. I feel like they are Lyanna /Rhaegar come again but I always wanted them to have a happier fate. So I've written this. Hope everyone enjoys this.

**CHAPTER 1**

**Across The Narrow Sea**

 

**BRAAVOS.**

 

**No one**

 

_A girl is given a name. Just a name. Rest she must find herself. And then she must bestow the Gift._

 

She was happy to be given this assignment for it showed that the Order had started trusting her again. Her punishment had ended some weeks ago when the Kindly man had seen that she was worthy enough to be a part of the Order. Her blinding had taught her one thing --- she was No one and she would remain nameless until the God of Death granted her the Gift. She had made the decision when she walked through the gates of The House Of Black And White nearly two years ago. She had given up her previous life, the name her parents had given her and even her memories to become what she was today and she would never risk it for anything in the world.

 

A crude touch on her butt jerked her from her thoughts and the face of a large, ugly man loomed before her. 

"Get me 'nother jug of beer, you wench ", the man barked in Braavosi. She almost wanted to chew the man's arm off for what he just did but whatever happened she must not give up her cover. "Yes sir, right away ", she answered back in the same tongue. She quickly hurried back to the kitchens to finish her order and her eyes fell to the reflection on the mirror. For this mission she had worn the face of a girl with blonde hair and light blue eyes.  _A pretty face,_ she thought.  _Atleast better than the horsey one she had before._ She stopped her train of thoughts and proceeded to the ugly man to give him his drink. 

"There you go ", she said. As she was about to proceed to the next table the man grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you? I can make good use of you ".  _That's what happens to pretty faces. Hunted by lusty men like they're meat._ She was about to go for her knife when another man called for his friend. 

"Grem, stop that! We have work to do. You can have that whore later. Now, come on. Get a move on." The man drew her close and whispered "I'll be back for you, pretty thing." Then he let her go.

 _If you come for me again it would be the last time you draw breath,_ she thought to herself. She pushed the matter aside and focused on her mission. The foreigner sitting at the far end of the tavern eagerly talking to a red haired whore named Nysa. He had taken a special liking to her, she noticed. Perhaps she could get some information out of her. But first she would have to gain her trust. As she finished giving put her orders she noticed the mannerisms of this foreigner. He always kept his hood up so a girl could never get a decent look at his face but she could tell that he was not from the free cities and was in his middle ages.

Suddenly, the tavern's door swung open and a group men entered with their swords drawn. And then there was screaming and shouting, lots of commotion and the men were killing every person that stood in their way, the whores and serving wenches were running out of the tavern, the tavern owner was barking at the strangers to stop destroying his fine establishment. And all the while a girl searched for the stranger who had taken advantage of the distraction and fled from the scene. One man shouted," Where is that Westerosi? We must find him and bring him to Master before the others do. "  _So they're sellswords. I must get this man before others take him out._ She did not want another failed mission.

 

She ran out of the tavern and into the streets of Braavos but found that she would not find him now no matter how hard she looked. 

* * *

 

 

**Young Griff**

 

He took a step backwards and turned to his left as his opponent's sword nearly missed his shoulder. The man was good he had to admit but due to his bulky physique and heavy armor he moved slowly. Griff was leaner and more agile and hence had a bit of an edge over his challenger. As his opponent recovered from his wrong move Griff took the advantage and lunged at him. His sword hit the flesh above the opponent's knee and he stumbled back. 

 

The man cursed in bastard Valyrian and charged forward. Griff dodged him again which seemed to have angered him more. Griff only smirked at that and knew he had caught his weakness.  _The more angry he gets the more reckless he becomes._ For the next few minutes Griff only dodged his attempts and never attacked. The man was growing more frustrated and tired by the moment. He knew it wouldn't be long before he won.

 

Griff enjoyed the life of a sellsword. He loved it all --- the fighting, no worries or responsibilities, the freedom of going wherever he wanted to and doing whatever he wanted to. But he knew this mummer's farce wouldn't last long. Soon he would have to give up who he had been these past 20 years and become someone entirely different. His father had planned a completely different life for him which he wasn't sure he wanted to lead. _I can never actually do what I want to._ But those few moments he pretended to be a sellsword he cherished them. He knew he would get another lecture from his father for this stunt but he couldn't care less. He would enjoy this life while he still had it. 

 

He came back to senses as the tip of his opponent's sword grazed his right cheek slightly. If he hadn't moved in time his right side of the face would have been completely gone. He realised it was time to end this. He started attacking his opponent with a vicious ferocity and lethal speed. He was gaining on him and had almost defeated him had it not been for her. The blonde haired vision that just passed before him. He took one look at her and was transfixed and it wasn't because of her face, it was because of her eyes.

 

Her face was pretty, no doubt but it was her eyes that caught Griff's attention. It seemed like they told a different story. Like something deep and dark and mysterious was hiding behind them. Something that urged him to unravel it's mysteries. He felt like her eyes didn't even belong to the face. Her clothing was simple, likely of a serving girl but she had the air of a queen, it seemed. Griff was pulled away from his thoughts as he fell face first on the ground. 

 

Everybody around him laughed. He heard his opponent say "Thought you could defeat me, boy. Who's face first in the dirt now?" He guffawed and the laughter of his companions around grew louder.  _I almost did defeat you,_ Griff thought.  _If it hadn't been for her it would be you on the ground._ He groaned as he got to his feet as the impact of his blow on the chest took him by surprise. "You only won because I let you", Griff said with sarcasm on his voice. 

"I still won. Now give me my money or I'll take the it from your dead body." Griff turned to look for this mysterious girl but before he could the man grabbed him and barked, " My money, now boy and we can leave without bloodshed ". 

"Yes, I'm giving you your money just wait", he answered. 

"Tytos of Lys, does not wait boy. Hand over the money ". At last, Griff had to comply to his demands and give him the bet money. When the sellsword was paid he turned to leave. "It was nice fighting you boy". 

"Nice fighting you too, Tytos of Lys". As soon as he was free from his crutches Griff ran to locate the girl but she was nowhere to be found. Griff didn't understand what was it about her that had drawn him so but he knew he needed to find her and soon.

  _It was her eyes._

He had to find her. He just had to. At last, he gave up the search and closed his eyes. He tried to remember every single detail. _Her hair. Her eyes. Her face. Her dress. The way she walked. The way she looked._

 

_Who are you?_

 


	2. A Confrontation With Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long. I never meant it to. But my life has been hell for these past few weeks and I could never get a chance to properly write something. Atleast something substantial. I hope this is worth the wait.

**Young Griff**

He twisted and turned in his bed, coiling like a snake between his sheets. Another nightmare troubled his sleep this night. He dreamed of eyes. Beautiful grey eyes filled with a wildness akin to a Wolf. And with the eyes came an image of a pale beautiful face and dark brown hair. He couldn't recall seeing that face ever in his life. But the eyes seemed familiar. They bored into him until every layer of his being was shed and all that was left of him was his soul. Fear gripped his heart and suddenly he wanted to run and hide. He made an attempt but his body fell and met with cold, hard floor. He had fallen from his bed. Sweat beads had formed on his brow and he felt out of it.

 _Another night I have dreamed of this stranger. These dreams never stop._ He thought. 

They had started the day he had seen the blonde haired maiden. The one with startling blue eyes. Her face was pretty yes, but she was nothing like the girl he kept seeing in his dreams. Infact both of the images were exact opposites of each other. The blonde girl he saw was delicate, innocent and pure, while the other one, the mysterious dark one that haunted his sleep every night was beautiful in her own way. She was dark and powerful, the kind of beauty that inspired strength in everyone who looked upon it. Griff wondered what she would look like in reality, being so beautiful in his dreams he imagined her to be even more so in person.

For how long he sat on the floor submerged in his thoughts he couldn't tell but when the knock came at his door he was taken aback. The first rays of sunlight had started creeping through his windows.

"Griff!!! Griff, wake up!!!", Duck's voice called from behind the door. "Quick. Do you plan on sleeping the whole day, lad? Your father has ordered you to break your fast with him today."

 _What is it, another lecture?_ Griff thought. By the gods he had had enough shouting and scolding from his father since the day he fought the sellsword from Lys in the streets of Braavos.

"Tell him l'll be right with him", he offered instead. He heard the knight's retreating steps. He went to the basin set at the corner of his bedchamber and cleaned himself. His father had always been the one for propriety. After he was done he put on his white tunic and made for his father's solar.

Another one of his guard posted outside his door accompanied him. This is what most angered him about his life. Escorted by a retinue of guards everywhere he went. He felt like a caged animal when he knew he was meant to fly. He reached the solar's door and sighed.

 _This is going_   _to be another long day._

* * *

**No one**

"A girl has failed again. "

"No, I haven't. Just please some more time and I will complete my mission. "

"A girl has been given enough time. A month's time is more than enough to bestow the Gift. Perhaps a girl should go back to scrubbing the floors in the temple of the Many Faced God."

"No please. I have been a faithful servant to the Many Faced God. Please just give me one more chance and I'll prove it."

"One week you shall get to show your devotion to the Order. One week and no more."

"One week is more than enough."

"Very well then. I believe a girl has work to do." With those words the Kindly Man left her in her chambers.

 _I must finish this before it gets out of hand._  She put on the face of the  serving wench again and set out with a purpose. Today is the day she would end this once and for all.

* * *

**Young Griff**

He set out to roam the city with Ser Rolly Duckfield and Lysono Maar and this time with the permission of his father. Earlier that day his father had called him to his solar to break fast together and asked him to accompany their spymaster Lysono Maar to the city where he was to meet another one of his informers about some news from the Seven Kingdoms. 

He wondered what had gotten into the Old Griff to send him away to roam freely in the city but he strongly felt that it must under the persuasion of Septa Lemore. He had always been fond of her. The Septa had filled the empty place of a mother in his life and had supported and defended him infront of his father. He must remember to thank her when he got back to their manse but for the time he fully intended to enjoy what little freedom he had been graced with.

He and Duck moved through the streets stealthily, like two normal merchants come to enjoy the entertainments the streets had to provide.They tried not to seem conspicuous, more than enough attention had been drawn to him the last time he had been let out. He had to be careful not to make the same mistake again. Lysono Maar was another matter though. 

Lysono Maar had once been a sellsword and now served as the Company's spymaster. He was hardly unnoticeable, being Valyrian of blood he had their typical beauty, platinum blonde hair and lilac eyes easily inviting the envy of every woman, Noble born and whore alike.

He chatted with almost everyone on the way in order to extract every ounce of information possible. He always fell behind Griff and Duck and they often had to wait for him. They wandered the city streets aimlessly and though Griff liked going around the streets he had started getting irritated wandering around with no purpose or destination.

_Mayhaps Father let me go out with him to test my patience._

At last, Maar led them to a lively tavern by the name of The Sailor's Daughter.The inside of the tavern was complete mayhem and frenzy. The crowd was loud and wild, and the minstrels took the energy of the room to another level with their music. He was relieved to know that he could rest his feet and quench his thirst. And mayhaps he can seek some company for the night. 

_That ought to keep the nightmares away._

But as he was considering that idea, he heard a voice in his head. 

 _Your Father was never one to frequent brothels._  

Then he remembered what he was and that he must behave as such. Just because he dyed his hair blue and roamed in the company of sellswords didn't make him one too. And it was dishonourable. 

It was something his Father would never do. His first visit to a brothel had been when he was a boy of 14 years. Duck had decided it was finally time for him to be a man. So he had taken him to a pleasure house in Volantis and it was there he had his lost his virginity to a red haired whore. The experience of being a man came with troubles of its own. Old Griff had gone mad with rage, his greying red hair stood on end and his face became as red as a ripe tomato prone to burst at any time. 

The scolding he had gotten after that was nothing like he had ever gotten in his life. Something he was not likely to forget in this life time. Yet it was not these thoughts that stopped him from bedding a whore that night, it was the face he kept dreaming about. He quickly shaked the image from his mind.

_It's not right for a grown man to worry over dreams._

Duck found a table in the corner of the tavern and the three of them went to sit away from the hustle and bustle of the alehouse.  

Duck was a lively man and good to be in the company of. He had become a sort of mentor and older brother to Young Griff. Though not very handsome, with a shaggy brown beard and a shock of orange hair he came with charms of his own. As soon as they were sat, whores came flocking to the three of them promising a night of heavenly pleasure for fair exchange of coin. Duck took a liking to one and grabbed her by the waist and sat her on his thigh.

"We're here for business not pleasure", Maar scolded him.

"Well we're here either way, might as well enjoy ", Duck answered. 

Lysono Maar shot him a look full of contempt.Though both the men respected each other there was little love lost between the two of them, especially as both did not approve of the other's ways. Griff ignored both of them and called for ale for the three of them.

Some time later, a known face appeared with their order. The same blonde girl he had seen not two weeks ago. Griff sat their dumbstruck and it seemed that even the girl recognised him as she stood frozen before their table.

"Come on now lass, don't make us wait too long ", Duck interrupted both of them from their trance. She hurriedly placed the three tankards of ale on their table and turned back to take orders from the tables. 

_I can't believe I found her again. And this time I'm not letting her go._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter is longer than the last one which was unbelievably short.


	3. A Lion Fallen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone and also a happy new year!! I wanted to upload this chapter a couple of days earlier but as I was writing (I had almost finished it) the page refreshed and my chapter got deleted. So I'm really sorry for the delay.

**King's Landing**

**Cersei**

She sat by her son's bedside holding his hand.  _My beautiful little lion. My sweet and gentle boy. I won't let you go._

"His Grace has not woken up for five days now, My Queen. His life is now in the hands of the Gods, truly", said Qyburn. 

"Qyburn, you were nothing before you came into my service. Stripped of your chain and office, scorn of the Citadel. Did I make you Grand Maester so you could prove yourself to be as incompetent as Pycelle? ", she snapped back. 

"Your Grace everything I have tried on the king has failed. He grows weaker by the hour. Mayhaps it would be more prudent to give him a swift death." 

"You will shut your mouth if you do not want that evil tongue of yours cut off right this instant, Qyburn. My son is not weak. He is a Lion of Lannister. Tywin Lannister's own blood. He will overcome this." 

"You are also unable to trace the kind of poison used to kill him? " inquired Jaime. 

_Jaime. My Jaime. My twin. My brother. My lover. My soul._

The Gods have made them both in the likeness of each other. Body and heart and soul. Though, Cersei realised when in the times of need even Jaime had proved to be as useless as the others.

 "Yes, Ser ", Qyburn answered. "I'm afraid the venom used to poison the king has been as elusive as the killer. "

Cersei knew who the killer was. That little shit of a brother. Tyrion.  _He killed my Joffrey. And then Father. Now he has taken my Tommen too._

"Qyburn you brought that beast, the Mountain back from the dead. Surely you can conjure up an antidote for this poison. Save him and I will bathe you in gold. You will be the richest maester in all the Seven Kingdoms. Save him. By any means possible. " She will not let the Gods take her last son too.

"Your Grace, this poison is nothing like I have ever seen or read about and ergo I cannot conjure up any medicine for the king lest it do him more harm. I need to research about this poison and it's effects first and only then can I help His Grace. I need more time. "

_Stupid, useless git._

"Time. I don't have much time. So does the king. Do something, Qyburn or it's death for you." Of all the men Cersei hadn't expected for him to give up so easily. 

"Yes, of course. "

She looked at her son's face one more time. It had been five days since the day he collapsed in his solar after his supper. His had fallen unconscious almost immediately. His face had started covering with purple colored boils and blisters. His hands had started turning black and felt cold as ice. And his mouth had started foaming. And since then her son hadn't stirred from his sleep.

Cersei had had everyone who fell in her eye of suspicion put to sword ---- the servants, the squires, the cooks and even the chamber maids. Anyone who could have possibly been connected to her son's poisoning had been tortured and maimed till they revealed any and every information they had about the murder of their king. 

Everything she had done had proven fruitless to help her poor son. She felt tears formingin her eyes but she would not shed them. _I am_  a lioness of Casterly Rock. A lioness doesn't cry infront of sheep. She desperately tried to rein in her emotion but the anger and grief forming inside her body was so profound that it seemed to consume her.

"Get out!!! All of you!! Not you Jaime. I would like to have a word with you."

When the chamber was empty except for her son's limp body, Cersei and Jaime, she threw herself in his arms, sobbing. 

"I want to you bring him Jaime. I want you to bring that monster, that Imp before me so that I can wring his neck and end his sorry existence once and for all. " She looked up to her brother with the utmost hope and only saw defeat and disdain in his eyes reflected back at her. For her.

"Bring who back?? Cersei you are talking madness."

"Don't try to act like a fool, Jaime.  Stupidity does not become you. This is obviously the work of that sorry excuse we have for our brother. Tyrion. He took Joffrey and father away from me. I won't let him take Tommen too. " 

"Cersei, Tyrion didn't kill Joffrey and he would never harm Tommen. He loved the boy. "

"Oh?? And he didn't kill Father too?? Jaime save me your explanations. You have always overlooked his vices and follies, have always loved him to no avail. And now look what he's done. He's killed our son. I always saw him for what he truly was. A monster and a murderer." Even thinking about him made her blood boil with poisonous fury.

"Tyrion is a thousand miles away from here and you have no proof that he did it."

"He could have easily paid someone to do it. And I know he did it I don't need proof. You bring him to me so that I can kill him. You'll do this for me, Jaime will you not? "

"Cersei, I would go to the ends of the world for you but you're talking about arresting my brother whom I also love very much and whom you have no proof against. I can't do it."

"Can't do it?? Can't do it?? That man has killed your son---" Cersei shouted but Jaime cut her off. 

"You don't have any proof, Cersei. "

"Since when did you need proof to do what I asked. "

"I'm sorry I won't do it. I can't just cross the narrow sea to arrest my little brother just for another one of your whims."

"Whim. Whim??!! This is not a whim, this a royal command and you will obey it. "

"I am a Kingsguard and my duty is to protect the King and the royal family not to arrest criminals and bring them before the Queen Regent. Have some other knight obey your royal command, Your Grace. "

With those words he left, leaving her all alone once again. The title hurt worse than his words. But what hurt most of all was his betrayal. 

He had never, ever once in all his life refused to do something for her. Never. They were one person and he always was ready to do everything for Cersei. However vile or vicious. It didn't matter. But that Tyrion had taken even her last support away. 

_I will make him pay for this. I will give him the worst death imaginable. A Lannister always pays his debts._

As she promised this to herself she could hear Maggy's voice at the back of her head. " _You will outlive all your three children and your death will come at the hands of the valonquar. "_

No the Frog was wrong. She returned to her position at her son's bedside.  _I won't let the prophecy come true._

Men. They are all weak and useless. They boast and boast but when the hour is dire they cower and hide and make excuses. 

_Don't worry my cub. I will protect you. I won't let anything happen to you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are liking what I'm writing and if you are/are not I hope you would leave some reviews.


	4. Familiar Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the delay in the update but it's been a hectic two months for me. But since I'm finally done with my semester and I have a break from college I hope to be more regular.

**The tavern wench**

It was going to be another long night for Lena. The pub was jam-packed and jumping with people tonight. Throngs of people still kept swarming in. Some were here for meat, some for drinks and some for something more. The noise of people shouting orders, the mens' bawdy laughter, the songs of the minstrels was making it harder for her to make sense of what was going on. The commotion was making it hard for her to focus on why she was really here. 

_I must keep calm and remember my training. It will end this night. This mummer's farce has been made to go on for far too long. Not any longer._

She danced around the tables finishing her orders serving food and drink to impatient customers while sneaking a glance at anyone who called for suspicion. Ever since that night a couple of weeks ago her mark had been surprisingly elusive. She had always prided herself on her ability of investigating and finding out things. But this one was proving to be difficult. She only had the information she was given by the Kindly Man at the start, a name------ a man going by the false name "Scar". Well that and that he was being pursued by a Magister too. Who and from which of the free cities she had been unable to find out. 

She had looked in whorehouses, pubs and taverns, dockyards and every nook and corner of every street and every place which offered food, shelter or entertainment. So far her search had proven fruitless. She even cornered Nysa, the whore she had seen him talking to that day. She told him that he was only using her to seem inconspicuous. He had never touched her and paid her the full amount only to sit with him and make small talk while he was in the tavern. She had never seen his face and he had never revealed the slightest bit of who he was or what he did to her. But since she was paid her full purse she didn't care.

_No I will find this man and complete my mission. I will show the Kindly Man that I am loyal to the Faceless Men. I will not fail them as I failed others before._

Sometimes she had dreams of her past life. The life she had left behind to be what she is now. It felt as if they memories of centuries back or perhaps another life she might have had. Maybe she had imagined it all. People she may have known but they're only faces in her head now. Names which she remembered by heart ages ago but now have been forgotten. Memories attached with feelings which didn't belong to her anymore. But it was not these dreams which gave her distress. 

It was the wolf dreams. The ones in which she morphed into some beast entirely unknown to her. A wolf she might have known, a wolf that might have known her but they were strangers now. But how could someone she didn't know make such a strong connection with her? Her who was Faceless. Her who had no identity. How could it be that when the wolf took a breath air filled her lungs, when it took a step she could feel the soil underneath her feet, the wolf took a bite and she could taste the metallic tang of blood fill her mouth and when it fed she felt her hunger relinquish. How could it be? 

She had seen through the eyes of a street cat before when she was blind. But getting into the body of an unknown beast half a world away was something that was beyond her comprehension. She had had those dreams before and had paid them no mind because she was someone else then. But now when she was No One she had no reason to see such things. They were getting more vivid with each passing day. And every night she felt herself becoming more of that wolf. She felt a day would come when she would just become the wolf wholly and her own self would be dust.

"Hey, Lena!! Could you please serve the back tables?? My legs are hurting and I need a breather." Shelly's high pitched voice interrupted her train of thoughts. "Yes sure, why not??", the melodious voice of Lena answered back. "Thanks very much. You're an angel. So the table near the window wants two gins and the one with the fat one, well he wants three plates of brew and a loaf of bread with a big jug of beer to wash it down. And the one at the far back, those three men want three jugfulls of cold beer. " Shelly recited the orders to her and went out the back door to get some fresh air.

She couldn't blame her, on a night like this even she was finding it hard not to feel tired. She hurriedly made her way into the kitchens to fetch the orders as she wanted to get this business over with as soon as possible so that she may have time later to check around for the man she was desperately trying to find. She quickly served the first two tables but as she approached the third she froze.

It was the same man she had seen sparring with the sellsword not two weeks ago. That same blue haired barbarian who had been following her ever since. Thankfully she had been successful in evading him but he has been relentless in his search. This mission had already gone awry and the last thing she wanted was to blow up her cover. 

"Come on lass, don't make us wait too long, " the burly, yellow haired man spoke. She quickly kept their drinks on the tables and made her way through the crowd to the kitchens. 

"Hey, wait!!" The blue haired man kept calling to her but she kept walking on straight ahead.

* * *

 

 

**Young Griff**

He called after her to no avail. She didn't seemed to hear him and disappeared into the crowds. He was determined not to lose her this time so he checked if Duck or Maar were minding his presence. Luckily since Duck was busy with his whore and Lysono was inspecting the crowds for his informer, Griff got the chance to steal away from them and go after this girl who has been haunting his thoughts.

He cut through the crowds and craned his neck to catch a glimpse of her. As he was tall he saw her blonde hair and he followed her to place he thought he saw her. Only she wasn't there. Somehow she had gotten away and he couldn't see where she went. Looking around for her he finally settled for the kitchens as it was the most probable place he could find her. He neared the entrance to the kitchen but accidentally knocked over a few brooms placed against the wall. Luckily no one noticed. Not wanting to create a scene he quietly picked them up and opened the nearby broom closet and to his surprise found her hiding there.

She was startled to have been discovered and made to leave but Griff caught her by hand and stopped her from getting away.

"You're a deceiving little minx." She clearly shocked at his words and tried to get away from the stranger troubling her. "I have seen you before, you know. I just want to talk to you for a moment please. What is your name? "

He looked at her and found that she was even more beautiful up close. Still an air of mystery surrounded her like a fog and he knew he was far from knowing her.

"I'm sorry but I think you have me mixed up with someone else. I have never seen you before. Ever. Now if you would excuse me I have work to do. "

" No listen, please wait. This is very important. I just want a little bit of your time." He desperately tried to explain to her his predicament.

"I'm sorry but I'm not a whore ", she snapped back. He was taken aback at that. This was not going well. "I'm not here to fuck you. I just want to talk to you for a second. Please don't get me wrong. "

"Talk to me. Just talk to me. As if I haven't heard that before. Piss off, bastard before I hit you." She wrenched her hand free from his grasp and made to leave but he blocked her with his body. 

"Listen. Just hear what I have to say. You're free to leave after that. You won't even have to tell me your name and you're also free to hit me if you think I'm talking shit."

"Go on." He didn't understand what must have changed her mind, maybe it was the desperation in his voice. Not wanting to challenge his luck he thought better not to question her.

"You see I saw you on the streets a couple of weeks ago and ever since then I have been transfixed. I have desperately been trying to find you but couldn't. It's like I know you but I don't. I want to know you, I mean I would like to. If you let me, that is. Anyway ever since that day you're all I have been thinking of. I'm even dreaming about you. This sounds strange but I have obsessing about you and when I saw you here today I thought mayhaps if I talked to you it would put my mind at ease. Do you get what I'm trying to say? Gosh this sounds so stupid. Are you even listening to me?" He was just babbling shit and he was sure she was going to hit him. As it turns out she was staring at him and perhaps was not listening at all. He studied her face and found she was admiring something on his face. "Hello?! "

"Are your eyes violet? " Realization dawned on him. Even in the free cities people having violet eyes were uncommon. He tried to hide his eyes with his hair. He looked at her and for one memont thought that maybe her eyes were gray. Just a moment. A hard slap of a large hand on his back made him turn. It was Duck. "Your father won't approve of that, " he said motioning towards the girl. "Maar has been looking for you. His guest has arrived, finally. "

Griff looked in the direction of Lysono Maar and saw him engrossed in deep conversation with a large man clad in a cloak. When he turned to say goodbye to the girl she had already gone. He was distraught to lose her again without even knowing who she was. Begrudgingly he made his way to their table and sat down. He noticed the informer kept the hood of his cloak up which didn't betray his face even the slightest bit. By his appearance he could make out that this man was a warrior since he also had a longsword at his hip. His garb was Westerosi as well as his accent was so he must have been from the Seven Kingdoms. And he stunk of piss and beer so he was a drunk. Anything other than that Griff couldn't make out.

"What news then? Good or bad? " Duck inquired. 

"Good. Very good. " Maar replied. 

* * *

 

 

**A Faceless Girl**

She quietly moved into the shadows as the man got out of the Sailor's Daughter. He seemed well and full into his cups as he stumbled across the now silent streets of Braavos. Just like a girl wanted him to. As he turned a corner she heard a thud of the man falling. That was planned as well. She had purposely slipped a numbing draught in his beer. A light dose which would only dull his senses. A girl liked to bestow the Gift while the victim had his consciousness.

She thought she was going to fail today but the God of Death had smiled on her. As soon as she saw him sitting at the table of the those three men she knew she would get him. She told Shelly to give him his drink, the one in which she had slipped some of the potion. 

Now was her chance and she was going to take it. She followed the path the man had went on and found him lying on the ground. She dragged him to a much lonelier corner of the street. A place where she could do her work without any interruption. She took out her dagger from where it was strapped on her thigh. "Valar morghulis." 

"If you're going to do it girl better do it fast". The voice of the man startled her so much so that she stood there like a statue unable of any motion. It was as if her stomach had dropped to her feet and she felt so dizzy that she thought she might faint. It was a voice she had heard several times before and a voice she was too familiar with. Someone she had known very well while escaping from the Queen and someone she had travelled half a Kingdom with. After what felt like ages, a girl bent down and removed the hood of the cloak the man was wearing.

And there it was his face. It was a face she knew well. A face she thought she had left to die but somehow had survived and come to haunt her again. His face was just the same, the Scar was unchanged and she recognised it in a heartbeat. 

_No I must do this. This is my mission. I am a Faceless Man. It is my duty, assigned to me by the One True God._

As she brought down the dagger she realised she couldn't do it. She was incapable of doing it those years ago and she couldn't do it now. She was that little girl again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all must have guessed by now who Arya's mark is. I also want to mention that the previous chapter that is the events in the Cersei pov happen shortly before the events of the first two chapters.


	5. No One No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to inform you all that the events that have transpired on the show will have no effect on the events currently going on in this story.

**Arya Stark**

Seeing the Hound was the last straw, she had always struggled and was always unwilling in her true heart to lose her identity. The moment she decided to spare Sandor Clegane's life she knew she had denounced her mask of trying to be Faceless. In her heart of hearts she knew she was just training to exact her revenge on her family's enemies. And now was the time for her to return to her homeland and avenge the betrayals and follies done to her family. It was time to complete her death list.

_My prayer will be answered now. The Death Prayer. Cersei, Ser Ilyn, The Mountain, Walder Frey and  all thosewho have wronged me and my pack will be fed to wolves._

Earlier that night, a Faceless Girl was dead set on killing the man named the Scar but as soon as she pulled his hood down she knew she wasn't a faceless assassin. She was Arya of House Stark, daughter to Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lady Catelyn Tully of Riverrun. The blood of the First Men still flowed strong through her veins. She pulled back the hood of the Hound and saw Arya Stark reflected back in his eyes. Obviously, his eyes held no recognition for her face but for her it was like seeing a mirror, akin to the reflection she saw of herself when she glanced upon the black pool in the godswood of Winterfell beneath the giant heart tree. 

So, she decided to leave the Hound there and forsake her life as a No one and made her way towards the shore where she had hidden Needle.

_I must complete this before the others come for me._

As soon as she had retrieved her beloved blade from the stone that hid it, she remembered a face. A face that was mayhaps the most important part of her life, of Arya's life. A face the likeness of which she had also shared and that was so alike her Father's and every Stark. She thought of Jon. He is the first person she must go to. The only one who may accept her even after what she's become; a trained killer. A heartless murderer. But it was what was needed to achieve justice for her family. Jon would understand it was her only chance of survival. Jon was the one who understood and knew her most of all. But that had been years ago, she has changed and surely he must have too. So would he take her in, muss up her hair and call her 'little sister'. Would he?

_I will think of such things later. For now I must get passage to Westeros and then to the Wall._

She quickly got out of there and made her way to the streets of Braavos. She needed money for her passage and she would get it anyhow. The God of Death has bestowed her with many gifts and the Faceless Men had helped her sharpen those gifts.The training at the House of Black and White had been what a whetstone is to a sword and those are the exact skills she would use to get away from them. She moved stealthily through the shadows the buildings cast in the moonlit street. 

As she was perusing for an option she saw a merchant walking in a drunken state. She saw that he stopped for an moment and sat down on the ground due to the state he was in. Arya saw her chance. She went straight to the merchant and inquired, "Are you okay, m'lord? Do you need help?" 

"No,no....quite alright....quite fine", he blabbered. Arya slowly took out her dagger and cut the merchant's pocket. He didn't seem to notice as he was already falling deep asleep. By the time he looked for the thief she would be heading across the narrow sea wearing a different face.

_A different face, that's what I need. And there is only place I will get it. I have to go back and tie up the loose ends so the ghosts would never haunt me again._

She turned back towards the street of the House of Black and White. As soon as reached the huge double doors of the abode of Faceless Men, she saw that there was no hustle around and the eery calmness made her think that it was the calmness before the storm. 

_They must already know,surely. They always know. Then why am I still alive?_

Arya knew something was awaiting her inside. Something big. The Faceless Men don't leave any loose ends. For a minute she doubted going inside. 

_Don't be stupid, fear cuts deeper than swords._

The sky above her turned into darker shade of purple even though it was the time of dawn break. Some angry dark red clouds had also formed like they were about to rain blood. A storm was certainly coming, and Arya Stark would certainly be the only one standing after it has passed for she was the one who was bringing it with her.

_It is a foretelling of my coming, I am coming back. To kill. To avenge._

With a stubborn determination, she pushed open the gates. There was nothing and no one around but silence. It made her skin prickle. Her cat like senses were alert, just like Syrio had taught her. She made her way to the Hall of Faces. A thousand candles case light upon upon the thousand faces decorating its walls. The shadows that crept up in the crevices of the walls made the faces look like strange creatures.

One particular shadow she thought had taken the form of a wolf.

 _I am_ _the only wolf here. I am a direwolf._

In the center of the hall she saw another shadow, a man's this time. A familiar voice asked, "Has a girl done what she was bid to do?"

"I haven't and you know I haven't."

"And why hasn't she?", the Kindly Man asked. Why was he acting like nothing's happened. 

"I thought the Faceless Men don't kill someone they already know." Why has she been assigned this mission at all? Was it to test her devotion? What did the Kindly Man hoped to gain through this?

"A girl is No One and a No One knows no one."

"I am not No One. I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell and I'm going home."

She had walked into the House of Black and White expecting slaughter but when she saw a smile forming on the face before her whoever's it was she was truly shocked. The Kindly Man started walking towards her and stopped when he was right in front of her face. Looking down on her and he smiled and said in that calm tone of his, "A man has always known. Ever since Arya Stark walked through those doors and a man looked upon her face he knew she would never truly become No One."

"You knew?"

"Yes, always."

"Then why did you take me in."

"Mayhaps a man wanted to be proved wrong. He saw potential in the girl and thought if she ever made it through she will be a most efficient servant to the God of Death. But alas, a girl could never truly denounce what she is and she kept alive the fire of vengeance inside her and mayhaps that was what helped her in becoming the most skilled assassin we have now."

Arya could scarcely believe her own ears. It made her suspicious as what his intentions might be. Mayhaps he was distracting her or stalling her until he puts her to sword.

"You need not be suspicious of this man, Arya of House Stark. A girl is not No one and therefore does not belong here."

And there it was, Arya put needle in front of her and took the water dancer's pose.

"She may go home", the words that fell out of the Kindly Man's mouth left her stricken. She couldn't believe it, perchance her wits had left her. She stood there frozen and her feet cemented to the ground, she couldn't move.

"A girl need not be surprised, she has a man's leave to go home. Mayhaps it is the God's will that is guiding your steps, Arya Stark and a man is but a servant and it is not for him to question his will. And a man trusts a girl enough to not share the knowledge she has gained here. Even a girl is not stupid enough to do that. "

But Arya couldn't leave not just yet. She came in here with a purpose and she would accomplish it.

"I can't go. Not just yet."

"Aah.... a girl requires something?" Arya slowly inched towards the faces on the walls and played with the candle flame with her fingers.

"Yes, another face."

"That you cannot have Arya Stark. Leave now and a man will let you go peacefully."

"But I need it and I will have it." With that she lifted the candle and set afire to the a face in the wall. The flesh starting burning off it and soon the other faces started catching it. Quickly, Arya took some other candles and rushed to alight other faces and on the wall. Soon, the fire was spreading to other parts of the room but strangely, the Kindly man just stood at the center of it, smiling.

Arya ran for the door before she was caught in the burning flames and when she turned she saw his smiling face and he said, "Arya Stark we shall meet again."

With the image of that smile imprinted in her memory she rushed out of the door.

_Yes, we shall meet again and I will be waiting. I will be ready._

She reached inside the pouch sewn in her bodice and produced the face of a simpleton. Mayhaps she was a serving girl or a chamber maid, the kind of face you never pay attention to but the kind of face that kills.

She turned around and beheld the House of the Black and White for the last time and she added another name to her list.

 _The Kindy Man,_ she whispered.

 The fire eating the House of Black and White illuminated the ground and the air around her but just like a cat, Arya found a corner to slither in.

 


	6. What The Future Holds?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture of how I think Aegon should look like. Will find an Arya soon. :-)

** **

**Bran**

He was falling.........falling.......falling again into what seems a great never-ending black pit, when he looked up he saw a tower. A great, old, round one, gargoyles sculpted around the turret and it had a solitary window. Standing at the window was a man, a strong looking handsome one with the golden mane. He thought for a moment that he knew him even thought his face was blurry and he couldn't place him. From this far down he looked like a lion. But Bran never had much time to concentrate on the man because he was nearing the ground. He closed his eyes because this is was the scariest part of the dream when he hit the ground. But the strange thing was this time he didn't feel his body hit the ground and the pain of waking up.

He felt his body being sucked into something, a kind of void where all movement ceases to exist. A nothingness of sorts that devours all. Bran's eyes couldn't see a thing, it was all pitch black. He felt disoriented and an unsettling feeling took root in the pit of his stomach.

_Gods, I'm never escaping this. I wish I could fly._

"But you can", said a voice. A light whisper but inside his head.

_Can I?_

"Yes, I taught you how to, but all of that will have gone to waste if you do not believe."

_I must believe, I am the Three-Eyed Raven now.  
_

With that as though the vision around him changed. Where there was black nothingness, a plethora of images started swirling in front of his eyes. Different events, different people, different voices changing so fast it was making him dizzy. A whole maelstrom of past memories and future events dancing in front of his eyes. Some true and certain. Some untrue and unsure. Some tangible. Others not so much. But none he could fully understand or make sense of. They moved too fast for Bran to register anything and just when he thought he would go mad and his brain would explode from so much noise and turbulence, it all stilled.

What he saw was an old forest having an ancient air about it. Something was odd about this place, as if some old power lies within its ground, a different sort of magic that takes root in its trees and some old spell whose secret only its creatures know. Oddly, this place looked very familiar but not so much at the same time. Bran could hear the different sounds- the birds chirping in the trees, squirrels climbing up and down the trees, bugs and beetles lurking in between the leaves of bushes, the distant sound of water. He could also sense the various smells making their way through his nostrils- overgrown moss, pine, roses in bloom, the smell of flesh and fur, the faint smell of animal shit. He was obviously inside some sort of beast. An animal.

_Summer, is that you? No, this beast feels different. It doesn't have the same connection. It doesn't feel a part of him. Something about this one is very detached._

He could feel himself moving- galloping more like, the leaves crunching underneath his hooves, the weight of a body on his back, being reigned towards a certain direction. So he was inside a horse, but whose?

He kept moving deeper inside the forest still, and it was some time before Bran could truly realise where he was. He approached a clearing with several hot pools, steam rising from their surface, providing heat in the chill of the forest. But at the centre was the largest of them all, a massive black pool and on the other side of the pool a giant weirwood with a much too familiar face.

_Gods, this is Winterfell and I'm in its Godswood. But what time? Which era? What people?_

These questions were still swimming in Bran's head as he felt a tug on his reins motioning for him to stop. The rider dismounted and he could feel them whoever they were walking towards the weirwood. He at last turned his head to see who it was.

From the back he could see long brown hair, a gray fur cloak of fine material with the Stark sigil embroidered with white thread and the figure of a woman likely wearing a tunic and breeches.

The rider approached the tree, placed a hand on its bark and etched the ancient lines of the faces marked eons ago. She moved in a way that must have been like letting out a sigh. And then she turned.

* * *

 

**Young Griff**

The household was in a flurry of movement since Maar confirmed the news. The whole company had to set sail within the week, the best within 3-4 days. Every person either in the house or in the Company was in a rush to either get this or that to the docks and see that their possessions were carefully loaded on the ships.

Griff had to marvel the record speed and discretion at which his father has arranged this all. No sooner had he gotten the green flag from Lysono, he had posted some letters no doubt to his contacts, allies, benefactors and suppliers, and all containing false reports as to why he suddenly required such a large sum of money or why suddenly grain and dried meat and weapons and slaves were needed on such short notice.

Most reports would confirm that the company was travelling eastward towards the Slaver's Bay, for better hunting grounds or for better masters who paid well to do their dirty deeds. 

The others more intimate ones, who knew that the Griff was none other than Jon Connington could swear they were going to meet Daenarys Targaryen, in hopes of an alliance in order to destroy those who had harmed his friend, the man he had loved. To keep the promise he made his friend and help the House Targaryen restore what was rightfully theirs.

None however knew what was the actual purpose of the upheaval of the Golden Company from the free city of Braavos. He had to applaud his father's ingenuity.

Right this second he was headed to a meeting his father had called before setting sail this night. He crossed the long hallway before standing in front of his father's solar. He knocked on the door and no sooner had his fist left the wood the reply came, "Get in, boy."

As he entered the chamber, he saw the old Griff bent over his desk poring over a wide array of papers. He didn't even look up before he said, "Everything ready, boy?"

"Yes sir, I had everything packed last night and the servants are taking them down to the docks just this moment."

It was the first time he had heard him laugh. It was an odd noise, raspy laughter like the groan of an instrument which had not been used for ages and the lack of oil had made the parts rub together to make the most obscene sound.

He looked up, sizing up Griff with a strange gleam in his eyes, a gleam he thought the man never possessed.

"Still a green boy", the old man huffed. "I wasn't talking about your luggage I was talking about you? Are you ready? To do this?"

_Stupid of me. Of course he wasn't inquiring after my luggage._

Griff thought for a moment, whether to put up a brave front or the honest one. At last the honest one won out.

"I don't think I can be ready for this until I face it no matter how much I prepare. I want to do this and make you proud. I want to prove I am worthy of my birthright, that I am worthy of being chosen to perform such a task, such a duty. I am ready to serve and rule, to protect and to preserve. But mayhaps I am not ready for failure, for disappointment, for letting people down. I am ready to fight and rage but watching my people die, friends laying down my life for me or making mistakes that can cause deaths or decisions that may upset dear ones. I am not ready for the burden and the weight that would constantly weigh me down. I am scared of not being like my father, of not proving up to it and I am wary of the consequences of war, of what it might cost me and other that I care about. If there would be any people left that I care about after this day. Mayhaps I'll never be ready for what's coming but how can I know without ever experiencing it."

He was questioning everything as he said those ---- his existence, the purpose of this mission and even if he did accomplish the task that he was set onto would that change anything or what if it changed everything.

He was even suspecting if he had revealed too much, said too much that would be unbecoming of his position.

But the old Griff only looked up at him with a slight smile tugging the corners of his mouth, something like pride shone in his eyes but it was gone in the flash of a second.

Instead he replied,"Good, boy. That's good. But now one final piece of fatherly advice, yes. You must pay heed to it."

It wasn't a question but he nodded solemnly just the same.

"You have to leave it all behind. This person whose identity you have taken. Shed it, boy. Shed it as easily one takes off a cloak. You must leave all these childish antics behind --- fighting with sellswords for money, going after every decent face that finds your fancy, exploring and wandering on your own whenever it suits your curiosity. You have to assume another role now, another act, another identity. You have to leave Young Griff behind."

He admitted to himself he thought he had to live out his days living like a sellswords son, as Young Griff since his father was so keen on his protection. He had fancied it for the longest time, that this might be the simpler life, the better one. But like all good plays he knew one day this farce would come to an end.

"Now, boy you have to be Aegon."

That was the first time he had heard his name, his true name on anyone's lips.

"Of House Targaryen. Son of Rhaegar. Heir to the Iron Throne."

* * *

  **Bran**

As the woman fully turned to face the horse whose body Bran now occupied, he was left stunned by what he was seeing. He had seen that face before or someone having a similar one. The woman looked no more than 16 years of age. He took note of the long,pale face that shone like moonlight, a pink flush blooming in the cheeks due to the chill. The brassy brown hair with slight curls and waves. The slender, lean figure, albeit a bit skinny and small but with more womanly parts and a wooden sparring sword attached at the hip. But it was the eyes, yes the gray stark eyes which locked his suspicion into place.

This girl--- woman standing in front of him was Arya. Or what Arya would have looked like all grown up. 

Whether his vision was true or not, he couldn't ascertain because the last he'd heard of his sister was many years ago, she'd slipped from Queen Cersei's fingers and was missing, likely dead.

He had to admit though, he had trouble believing this lady was indeed Arya, though her figure, face, manner and garb was what his sister would wear, this one was -----beautiful. Growing up, Arya was always dirty with scraped knees and messy hair unless their mother forced her to behave and dragged her toc lean and tidy herself. Always trying to be one of the boys. Though it was too early to tell but her looks were not something she was known for unlike Sansa.

Before Bran could give any more time for his musings, the woman drew what looked like a letter from the folds of her cloak and sat down in between the roots of the weirwood to read it. She tore open and the letter with hurried hands as if it was a long awaited reply to some important matter. Her eyes impatient as they roved over the words contained that piece of paper betrayed her otherwise cool demeanor.

She took a good amount of time reading the letter. She read it, once, twice, thrice. Then turned it over as if the writer had left out an essential chunk of information. When she had confirmed that there were no more words for her to devour she crushed the paper in her hands with a sigh and let her hands fall on her lap.

Some silent moments passed, the woman since then in silent contemplation about the contents of the letter at last looked at the black pool in front of her. Its black surface never betraying what lurked beneath, the depths the blackness delved into. A silent tear escaped those gray eyes and fell down her cheek.

_Would Arya cry over a letter?_

Before Bran could formulate an answer, his vision started spinning again. Strange images started floating in front of his eyes and none stopped long enough for him to make head or tail of them. From there, everything happened in a vortex where he couldn't calculate if time was moving too fast or too slow.

First, he saw fire, a great tragedy, great halls burning. People screaming, people set on fire, people running and dying. A great frenzy. The fire, it seemed didn't want to be contained, like some great law of an ancient magic had been broken and this was its revenge. In the midst of it all, the fire and the smoke, a woman's cry like she was giving birth.........

Next, he was transported to somewhere where there were great sand dunes and scorching heat, a snake emerging from one of them and embarking on a journey towards the distant sea shore........

Again, he was in Winterfell but this time everything was frozen, the air fell from decay like Death had come in the form of ice and snow and wiped everything clean. The turrets and towers, the great hall and the wolf throne where the Kings and Lords of winter sat, all was crushed and frozen, all was ice. Even the black pool was nothing but a clear surface of black ice now but only the taunting face of the weirwood remained, laughing at him and then something approaching........

Then, he was inside a weirwood, seeing through its eyes. A man and a woman, smiling at each other, speaking some words and then kissing. The man had silver hair and violet eyes with sun-kissed skin. The woman, a pale beauty, brown hair and grey eyes he'd recognized before.......

Then, he saw the Iron Throne, cold, other-worldly with all the jagged edges of several blades jutting out, some sort of strange power emanating from it. As if the Throne had some strange magic of its own and it was calling to something or someone.

His vision started blurring as he saw someone sit on the massive structure, someone in red.....

Then, Bran's whole world started shaking as if an enormous earthquake had toppled his world. He could hear a woman's voice calling to him. Incoherent words, like some strange language, urging him to do something.

 _What is it?_ He tried to ask.

The answer that came was faint but he could comprehend it even though the voice seemed to be coming from underwater.

_"W...a...k...e.....u......p"_

_What?_

_"Wake.......up"_

_Why?_

_"Wake up"_

The urgency in the voice increased, and the shaking only turned faster.

_"WakeupWakeupWakeup"_

Then, at last a scream--- loud and clear. A name. His.

_BRAN!_

Bran's eyes opened in a flash and he was blinded by the sunlight that he was staring at. Slowly, a familiar face formed from the light. Meera's.

"We have to move! NOW!"

* * *

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment. I would really like to know about your views and what improvements I can make or errors I may have made while writing the chapters that I can rectify.


End file.
